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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22727848">Gods Aren't Such a Big Deal</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/caynaise/pseuds/caynaise'>caynaise</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Post-How To Train Your Dragon (2010), Pre-Thor (2011), just vikings hanging out with a space alien, the death isn't really explicit but it's a scene that happens?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 16:42:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,232</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22727848</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/caynaise/pseuds/caynaise</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"You'll never be ready.”</p><p>Maybe Loki wasn't ready either, years and years before he said those words to Thor, in a time when Vikings lived on Midgard. Are humans ever worth the trouble of knowing them?</p><p>For Ruff and Tuff though, meeting a god is pretty cool—even if being Loki'd from the outset is less so.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ruffnut Thorston &amp; Tuffnut Thorston</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Gods Aren't Such a Big Deal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Sorta using pre-Ragnarok lore because why not, I guess?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was in the nature of a trickster to expect the unexpected. </p><p>The Thorston twins of Berk always joked that they would anger the gods with their devious ways, but what they did <em> not </em> foresee was that such wrath would come upon them in the frankly bizarre fashion it did. Surreptitious. One could go so far as to say ... petty. </p><p>“Tuff!” Ruffnut’s throaty yell cleaved the morning air, sending a flock of Terrible Terrors on the rafters scattering into the air. “Tell me you brought all the sheep or so help me, I will hurl them and us through Helheim’s Gate.” </p><p>Her brother’s face peeked around the doorframe, squinting through dense clouds of dust and disturbed particles of hay. “Odin’s beard. As awesome as that sounds, I had nothing to do with it.” Ruffnut had to strain to hear him over the godforsaken bleating of the livestock crammed into the room. Once upon a time she might have amused herself wondering exactly how many sheep it would take to fill their floor space, but never had she imagined she would find out like this. </p><p>The day got progressively worse. Their furs vanished without a trace and turned up sodden on the docks. At dusk Tuffnut almost fell into a fresh boar pit neither of them recalled themselves or anyone in the village digging, before Ruffnut grabbed the back of his tunic and hauled him away from the edge. </p><p>She had trouble sleeping that night. Bleary-eyed and disoriented, she groped her way outside the next morning and hit—something, though there was nothing in front of her. </p><p>Or was there? She’d been so certain he hadn’t been there a second ago. Hel, she needed sleep. </p><p>The slight figure crouched on the grass sprang up, hopping back as if she’d attacked him, hands out in defence. </p><p>“Gah—wha—how—” she spluttered, eyes unable to focus fast enough before he turned tail and disappeared. All she caught were green and black and the glint of gold vambraces.</p><hr/><p>He reappeared, but he took his time. If Ruffnut had known all it would take was an envenomed shout of “Loki’s forsaken us!” atop a hill overlooking the village, she would have done it sooner. </p><p>“Please, there’s no need for this hostility,” a silky voice spoke, and there he was on the ground beside them, an arm draped carelessly over his knee. </p><p>“Oh? <em> Oh?" </em> said Tuffnut, after he had leapt ten feet into the air. “Who are you to say that, after everything you’ve pulled on us? You wait, I’ll set my dragon on you and then we’ll see—”</p><p>“That’s my dragon <em> plus </em>yours.” Ruffnut slapped the helmet off his head. </p><p>The gold vambraces flashed in the sunlight as the stranger shifted to face them. Longish black hair framed his pale face in loose waves. “Oh dear. I was under the impression we were on amicable terms.”</p><p>“Amicable—I’ve never met you in my life. Well, apart from when I bumped into you, but oh yeah, I’m sure that fraction of a second was <em> full </em>of friendliness.”</p><p>The stranger regarded them with polite inquisitiveness, head cocked to the side. “Do you truly not recall who sowed the seeds of mischief in your heads? Who whispered details of elaborate plots in your ears while you slept? Did you believe all of your tricks were of your own invention?”</p><p>Was it possible? Of course not, that was silly. Yet Ruffnut couldn’t deny that she had dreamed of dismantling enemy ships and fooling Trader Johann with counterfeit products, plans that had emerged fully formed in her head, ready to be executed … before she woke up. </p><p>“You’re not saying you’re really the God of Mischief?” said Tuffnut. “I thought he’d be more ... powerful?”</p><p>And Tuffnut should have known from their friend’s disposition, or what they’d gleaned of it thus far, that he wouldn’t take kindly to such words. There was a deafening blast of wind, and the twins were thrown sky-high, slamming into the ground and tumbling down the slope. By the time the air had replenished itself in Ruffnut’s lungs, the young god was nowhere to be seen.</p><p>“I take it back,” said Tuffnut, spitting a mouthful of dirt into the grass.</p><p>“Serves you right.”</p><hr/><p>Could he be considered young? He certainly looked it, but Ruffnut couldn’t say she was familiar with the rate at which gods aged. Plus there was a particular aura of inscrutable magic crackling around him, magic he kept contained and close but which seemed always on the verge of bursting through a flimsy membrane of control. Gooseflesh rose and spread on her skin whenever it was near.</p><p>He was as haughty as he was uncertain, as cool as he was temperamental, as impenetrable as he was unguarded. As earnestly as he might seek to keep his barrier of aloofness upright, a slight flush across the sharp cheekbones or a slight tic of an eyebrow would immediately give him away. He had such expressive eyebrows. </p><p>There was no doubt now in Ruffnut’s mind that he was the deity whose name she and Tuff invoked every time they set out on some new adventure. All her resentment of his pranks forgotten, she awaited each of his unannounced arrivals with eagerness, excitement thrilling across her skin at the shimmer of green light that signalled his presence. Neither of the twins breathed a word of these encounters to anyone. It was not lost on Ruffnut what a privilege the god’s company was, when he doubtless had other more important duties to attend to. </p><p>Though, come to think of it, what exactly <em> was </em> the duty of a God of Mischief?</p><p>“You mortals have much to learn,” Loki observed when she asked. “You can’t possibly envision how dull the days become in the realm of the gods, when everyone has been alive for millenniums. I am, naturally, charged with conjuring laughter in the awfully heavy air my fellow citizens inhale on a daily basis. Were it not for my efforts, Asgard would boast only dreariness and distasteful shows of brawn. And thunderstorms.”</p><p>“Wow,” Tuffnut said. “Sounds like our talents would be put to good use there.”</p><p>Ruffnut hummed plaintively in agreement. “People around here don’t appreciate what we do <em> nearly </em>enough. Pesky troublemakers we were born, peskier troublemakers we shall die. Utterly unrepentant.”</p><p>Loki looked as if he would speak, but he only chewed his lip and fidgeted with his long-fingered hands. </p><p>He came to their aid, reluctantly, during an attack. They had to mutter his name several times under their breaths before a bolt of green energy, barely noticeable in the midst of dragon fire and smoke, slashed through the net trapping Barf and Belch, whose wings skimmed the water and whisked the twins back into the air. Silver daggers rained down on the ship.</p><p>“Loki,” Ruffnut said one night, loud and clear, and he materialised before her. She fought to conceal her delight—he rarely responded when she called out for him—but the grin spread unchecked across her face and she gave in. To be fair, he was hardly doing a better job, his chin lifted, his regal bearing failing to hide the crinkling at the corners of his eyes. </p><p>“Don’t you have anything better to do?” she asked him.</p><p>“My witless oaf of a brother is on a long-distance mission with his equally foolish companions. I find his absence leaves the palace in blissful peace. Without him there, I have a rather large slice of time to myself.”</p><p>“Well, my witless muttonhead of a brother is snoring in there.” Ruffnut jerked her head in the direction of the house. “I wish <em> we </em>could go on a mission.”</p><p>Loki’s eyes glowed, gold flames from the braziers sizzling in them, hot magic sparking. “Yes.” He looked away. “We.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Nothing.”</p><hr/><p>When he left and didn’t return, Ruffnut knew there was no pinning down this mercurial creature. He was chaos incarnate, thrumming energy that changed form at the snap of a finger, warping into something else before you could process what he’d been at the start. Sometimes he was a wisp of a cloud in the sky. Sometimes the raging eye of a storm: cold, dark and dangerous. </p><p>He was neither of those the last time they saw him as kids. He dined with them, brought a veritable feast into their humble abode that had the table buckling under its weight. With a gesture of prising open the blanket of the air he pulled the food from nowhere, avian species they had never seen before, grapes greener and plumper than any they had laid eyes on, rich mead that bubbled thickly. The rest of Berk assumed the twins were off planting yak dung in Snotlout’s bed, and their absence raised no eyebrows. </p><p>Ruff and Tuff followed Loki outside, having more than a little difficulty walking after the abuse they had inflicted on their stomachs, bickering over who had scoffed down more. Loki had eaten five times as much as both of them combined and seemed nothing but invigorated by the ordeal. He strode ahead of them, hands behind his back, weaving uphill through the village. </p><p>It took Ruffnut a while to notice that he had halted his steps a little way beyond the chief’s house. They tried their best to catch up to him, but he turned and his face was set in stone, those quirky eyebrows utterly still. His gaze was level, indifferent.</p><p>“I lied to you,” he said, and there was no remorse in the admission. “I never had influence over your mischief.”</p><p>And he raised his head and directed his quiet request at the heavens. “Heimdall, bring me home.”</p><p>A wide beam of blinding rainbow light shot down from the sky and engulfed him, lifting him high, higher until he vanished from sight entirely. The pair of golden horns protruding from the helm that had materialised on his head was unmistakable, a sight seared into the backs of Ruffnut’s eyelids for the rest of her days. He was glorious, an eagle taking flight. </p><p>“Oh my <em> Thor," </em> Tuffnut let out, mouth agape.</p><p>The last thing Ruffnut saw was the sheer annoyance on Loki’s face upon hearing that remark.</p><hr/><p>She never thought they would see him again. The years rushed by, then trickled, and she found herself, grey and frazzled and hunched, seated on Tuffnut’s bed and levelling insults at him for old times’ sake as his numbered breaths dwindled. The candle had almost burnt out, the shadows thick and heavy around them. Ruffnut shut her eyes, turning away from her brother’s ashen face for a moment. </p><p>When she opened them, he was there. </p><p>She might have berated him, but the shock of it was too great and the years had taken their toll. Instead she poked Tuffnut’s cheek and whispered in his ear, “Hey, look who it is. <em> Someone </em>remembered you exist. About time, you little trickster god.”</p><p>Loki’s appearance was almost unchanged, except that his hair was less wild, smoothed back and tucked behind his ears. He came up to the bed, every step like it was dragged out of him, and Tuffnut took one glance and him and chuckled. </p><p>“Bet he forgot all about <em> your </em>existence.”</p><p>The muscles in Loki’s cheeks jumped as he clenched his jaw. “I … didn’t intend to come,” he said, almost clumsily, the silver tongue oddly weighed down. “But Heimdall keeps watch over too many souls.”</p><p>Ruffnut smirked. “How lovely to see you too.”</p><p>“So what else did you lie about?” Tuffnut said. </p><p>The untameable eyebrows shot up, almost to Loki’s hairline. <em>"T</em><em>hat </em> is what you wish to ask me?”</p><p>“It’s not like we hold it against you,” Ruffnut grumbled. “It was more like—”</p><p>“A <em> wicked </em>reverence,” said Tuffnut.</p><p>“Yeah. Lying like breathing?”</p><p>“An art form. But it’s nice to know the truth.”</p><p>Loki was silent for a minute. Then he leaned down, and his voice was a brush of velvet against the air. “I’ll tell you a secret. Asgard lied to you. We’re not gods. We only let you believe we were. Midgardians are so easily swayed by unexplained phenomena, so why not take advantage of that fact? No, Asgard is merely another realm in the cosmos. There are many worlds out there, if your minds could grasp the concept.”</p><p>“So they’re just as bad as you. Or are you lying about this too?”</p><p>A ghost of the grin Ruffnut remembered from so long ago spread across Loki’s lips. “If that’s what you suspect, is it any use to ask?”</p><p>“No, I believe you,” said Tuffnut.</p><p>Ruffnut nodded. “You never seemed like a god to me. You’re too much like us.”</p><p>“Would it please you to cast an illusion, oh mighty magic-maker?” Tuffnut said. “You owe us one. Me especially, uh, given the occasion.”</p><p>“As you wish.” Loki sent a dozen images of the twins—younger, laughing, pulling hair and making faces—flashing across the room. One by one they faded away, and he inclined his head as if to hide the shimmer of not-quite-magic in his eyes. </p><p>Years of havoc and hard-won battles on the backs of dragons had taught Ruffnut that there was mystery wherever you looked, questioning fogs and seesawing certainties and sleights of hand that stretched across land and sea and sky. Across space and time. </p><p>Not knowing what would happen had always been half the fun. </p>
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